


Playing With Fire

by AKFanWriter (DBZVegeta)



Series: Fire and Death [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-19
Updated: 2005-02-19
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DBZVegeta/pseuds/AKFanWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is sent to retrieve a message from a Death Eater spy/contact and is surprised when he finds out that the spy is Draco Malfoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing With Fire

**Fic title:** Playing WIth Filre  
**Penname:** AKFanWriter (aka DBZVegeta)  
**Summary:** Harry is sent to retrieve a message from a Death Eater spy/contact and is surprised when he finds out that the spy is Draco Malfoy.  
**Pairing:** Harry/Draco  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**# of Chapters:** 1  
**Category:** Romance / Angst  
**Beta:** Tiarakiyoshi  
**Originally Published:** 12 Jun 2005

*****************************************************************************  
  
**Playing With Fire**  
  
Harry dropped his glasses on the table, reaching up to rub at his tired eyes the words of the parchment blurring in the dim light of the kitchen. Why was it when he had been studying at Hogwarts, during his days as a student, that staying up late doing research never seemed to bother him as much as it did now. Granted, it had only been four years since he had graduated and it wasn’t as if he was only worrying about passing his Transfiguration essay or researching some obscure potion ingredient to pass his finals. This research could inevitably save them all from destruction at the hands of Voldemort.  
  
Reaching out, he picked up his glasses and placed them back on the bridge of his nose before picking up the parchment to study the illegible and tight scrawl dotting the paper.  
  
“Harry, have you been at this all night?” the familiar voice of his best friend, Ron Weasley, called from behind him. Harry looked up, his tired eyes taking in his friend form in the doorway; his hair askew, a dark navy blue dressing robe belted tightly at waist, his feet bare.  
  
“Yeah, but I am almost through the second passage,” he replied, smiling tiredly up at Ron, “What are you doing up at this hour, though?”  
  
“Hermione and her weird food cravings,” Ron said succinctly, a grimace spreading over his face. “I will never understand how women can crave such things as a pickle, chocolate and peanut butter banana split.”  
  
“Well, if you didn’t insist on having all of those children, I would assume that you wouldn’t have to put up with those cravings,” Harry said, a shudder running down his spine at the thought of that mixture, as Ron moved across the room to prepare Hermione’s late night snack.  
  
“Hey, it’s only our second pregnancy. You can’t count the twins as separate ones, those two are closer than Fred and George were growing up.”  
  
“Well, pray that it isn’t another set of twins,” Harry chuckled as Ron’s face blanched and he clutched at the countertop.  
  
“Don’t jinx me,” Ron said, closing his eyes and praying silently, before he opened his eyes and focused back on Harry. “Oh, by the way, when I came downstairs, Dumbledore popped his head through the floo connection and asked if you could give him a shout.”  
  
“Hmm, I wonder what he wants now,” Harry said sarcastically, reaching up and running a hand through his disheveled locks.  
  
“Harry, when are you going to get over it? I wasn’t his fault that Sirius was killed during your fifth year, nor was it his fault that Remus drank himself death last year. You need to forgive him sometime,” Ron said, putting down the knife he had been using and wiped his fingers on a towel before reaching over to place his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You know that Remus had been grieving over Sirius’s death and had only been waiting until you were grown to leave. You can’t blame Dumbledore for that.”  
  
“Yeah, and he did nothing to stop either of them, did he now! He knew that Remus was suffering and didn’t deem it necessary to tell me anything until it was too late, like he always does. Keeps me in the dark about every decision with the Order, doesn’t matter that I’m an adult and probably have had more experiences with death than most people have with crossing the street,” he snorted scornfully, shaking off Ron’s hand. “Well, I should go and floo the old man and see what he wants this time.”  
  
Ron watched silently as his long time friend stood up and walked out of the room, the door swinging on it hinges wildly behind his retreat. He sighed before he turned back to making his wife’s snack, hoping that this time something good would come of their conversation.  
  
~*~  
  
“Harry, my dear boy, thank you for getting back with me so quickly,” Albus Dumbledore replied as he looked at the head hovering in the green flames of his fireplace.  
  
“Get to it Albus, I don’t have all night,” Harry spat, his eyes showing his contempt for the older wizard.  
  
“Still haven’t forgiven me yet, have you?” Albus said softly, a soft pain showing in his eyes, “Oh well, we will have to work through this at a later date. I need you to run an errand for me.”  
  
“An errand, when did I become your gopher boy? Get Snape to do it, I am busy with translations,” Harry snapped, his anger growing by the minute.  
  
“Ah, I would send Severus, however he is currently on assignment elsewhere and there is no one else qualified available. You were the only other logical, acceptable and qualified person to retrieve the information.”  
  
“And what is this errand that you want me to do?” snarled Harry, realizing that he had neatly been backed into a corner once again by the meddling old man.  
  
“I need you to go to this address and pickup a message from one of our Death Eater spies. He will be waiting for you at 11 p.m. tomorrow night, be sure to follow the instructions on the slip to the detail,” Dumbledore said as he handed a small slip a paper to Harry through the green flames. “I’ll arrange for a meeting with the Order for the next evening where we can review the information.”  
  
“And how will this ‘spy’ know who I am?” Harry said, disdain dripping from his tone, he was getting more and more fed up with this situation by the minute.  
  
“Everything is in the instructions, Harry. Good luck.” With those final words, Dumbledore closed the connection and Harry stumbled backwards from the fire as the flames whooshed and roared, the green color fading back into brilliant gold and orange.  
  
He stood up and looked down at the paper clutched in his fist, before turning it over and opening it. His swearing drew Ron out from the kitchen.  
  
“Damn meddling, manipulating, senile old fool,” muttered Harry.  
  
“What’s that, Harry?”  
  
“I have to retrieve information from one of the Death Eater spies tomorrow night,” he said, his eyes blazing behind his glasses.  
  
“What’s so wrong with that?” Ron said, looking up in confusion at Harry’s tight, angry face.  
  
Harry thrust the piece of paper into Ron’s hand and watched as his friend’s face went from concern to shock to his eyes rolling back into his head and passing clean out onto the floor. Harry would have laughed at the sight of Ron passed out on the floor with Hermione’s snack melting over his face, if he hadn’t been so pissed.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry stepped through the door into the hottest club in London, check that thought, the hottest gay club in London. He looked around the crowded club, its two stories packed with flashing lights, writhing bodies and soul-pumping music. He sighed as he looked down at the slip in his hand and then looked about for the room that he was supposed to meet the Order’s spy in.  
  
“Hey handsome, how about a dance?” came a husky voice from behind him, and a hand was slipped down along his spine to rest at the top of his backside.  
  
Harry turned, pulling away from the touch, “Sorry, but I don’t dance,” he growled, looking the man up and down. He was good-looking, dark hair and eyes, in tight blue jeans and see-through red shirt, but he was not here for fun.  
  
“Ah, but love, what are you doing here, if you don’t dance?” he said back, moving closer, nearly pinning Harry against the wall, hands coming up to cage him.  
  
“He’s here to see me, Michael. So I would appreciate if you didn’t poach on other’s territories,” said an oh-so familiar voice. Harry looked up over the young man’s shoulder and nearly gasped as his eyes encountered a sight that he hadn’t seen in nearly four years.  
  
Draco Malfoy.  
  
However, this wasn’t the Draco Malfoy that he remembered from graduation. This Malfoy had definitely grown into the long, lean body that, at eighteen, had seemed disproportionate and gangly. Broad shoulders filled out the silver silk shirt, which was only buttoned half up his chest, tucked into a pair of painted-on black leather pants and black boots. His silver-blonde hair had grown down past his shoulders and was no longer slicked back with hair gel, but allowed to flow loose about his face. A silver cross dangled from one ear and his eyes, still that unbelievable shade of silver-blue, were lined with kohl.  
  
“Damn Draco, why do you always get all the hot ones? Well, if you decide to throw him back, let me know,” Michael said as he stepped back and faded into the crowds, but not before blowing a kiss in Harry’s direction.  
  
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the great Harry Potter. Decide to come and slum with the other side of the team, hmmm?” Draco purred, sliding closer to Harry and slipping his arms about his waist. He leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, his breath hot on Harry’s flesh. “My, but don’t you clean up nicely.”  
  
Draco leaned back and leered at Harry, his eyes deliberately sweeping up and down his body. Harry was dressed in a pair of tight, dark green leather pants, with keyhole opening along the side of the legs, his tanned skin gleaming through the openings. His emerald green silk shirt was unbuttoned and layered over a black net shirt, which hugged the curves of his muscular chest. A flash of sliver sparked through the netting, intriguing Draco, who licked his lips at the thought of exploring to find out what that flash was. His eyes traveled up from Harry’s chest to meet the heated emerald eyes, no longer hidden behind glasses.  
  
“Malfoy, would you mind letting me go,” Harry growled, and Draco shivered as the sound of his voice crept up his spine. He could almost imagine that voice saying other words.  
  
“But Harry, you’re here to see me, aren’t you?” Draco pouted, batting his eyelashes up at him, a mischievous grin creeping over his face.  
  
“No, I am not here to see you, I am here to meet someone else. So let go, Malfoy,” Harry said, as he brought his hands up to grasp Draco’s shoulders and pushed him away.  
  
Draco’s eyes hardened suddenly, as he slammed Harry back into the wall. He fought to hide his small grin of satisfaction when he slid his knee between Harry's muscular thighs and felt the growing pressure there. "No, Harry. You're here to see me," Draco purred, his lips lightly brushing the now erratic pulse at the base of Harry's neck.  
  
“What?” Harry gasped, the blood pounding through his body, as Draco’s knee rubbed against his crotch, his tongue leaving wet trails along his neck.  
  
“Just shut up and listen,” hissed Draco, nipping Harry’s neck sharply, drawing a startled cry from him. “When I let you go, follow me.”  
  
“Why...why should I?” Harry moaned, trying to concentrate on Draco’s words, not his actions.  
  
“Because I have the information you were sent here for, fool,” Draco calmly replied, leaning back he looked down into Harry’s dazed eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”  
  
“But Malfoy...” Harry started as Draco stepped back and turned.  
  
“Not now, come on,” Draco said, as he turned back and grabbed Harry’s hand, dragging him towards the crowded dance floor.  
  
The crowd seemed to automatically clear a path for Draco, as he dragged Harry across the dance floor and up one of the many staircases to the second level. Draco pulled Harry past a long line of people patiently waiting for entrance into another room and nodded to one of the pair of large bouncers, who unclasped the rope that hung from gold rods and waved them though the door being held open by the other. Murmurs of discontent followed them from the crowd waiting as the door closed behind them.  
  
“Malfoy, where are we going?” Harry asked as he was unceremoniously hauled across the room, barely having chance to look at the cozy interior. The room was smaller then the main club, yet was large enough to hold a medium size party, the red brick walls dimly lit with lamps and a large fireplace. Couches and cushions littered the room; couples and small groups were busily engrossed with each other, in various states of undress, from what Harry could tell from the flashes of skin he could see.  
  
He was pulled up short from his inspection when Draco suddenly stopped and he ran smack dab into his back. Turning, he saw Draco smiling at a short, dark-haired young man who looked up from a small desk in front of another doorway.  
  
“Ah Draco, I see you found your date. My, you sure know how to pick them,” the young man said, as he eyed Harry hungrily.  
  
“Jones, don’t make me tell you again about my policy,” Draco growled as he signed a small book that the man passed to him.  
  
“I know, I know, No lookee, No touchee...Geez Draco, can’t a guy fantasize about the hot guys you date,” Jones said as he pulled back the register and held out a key to Draco.  
  
“Nope, and don’t make me tell Ryvus about your roving eyes,” Draco said, taking the key and pulling Harry closer to him, slipping an arm about his waist.  
  
“Ouch, you wound me,” the man groaned, feigning a stab to the heart as he laughed and shooed them on their way. “Have a good night, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”  
  
“Well, that ain’t much, now is it,” Draco called over his shoulder, as he pulled Harry around the desk and through the door. Harry stumbled a bit, and clutched at Draco’s arm as he was pulled down a long, darkened hall to the end, where Draco used the key to open a room and pushed Harry inside.  
  
“Dammit Malfoy! Couldn't you be a little more careful,” Harry groaned, as he bent over to rub his knee, which he'd smashed into a chair just inside the entrance.  
  
‘Sorry,” he answered back unrepentantly, as he closed the door and a loud click filled the room.  
  
“Did you just lock us in?” Harry asked, suddenly nervous.  
  
“Yep, you’re all alone with me,” Draco said, leaning back against the door and looking leeringly up and down at him, before pushing off the door to advance upon Harry.  
  
“Now, wait a minute, I didn’t come here to play, Malfoy,” Harry said, backing away from Draco, both hands held up to ward him off.  
  
“Draco,” he said softly, stopping just short of Harry’s upraised hands, his eyes boring down into Harry’s.  
  
Harry looked up into those silver-blue eyes, entranced. “W...Wh...What?” he stuttered.  
  
“I said, Draco. That is my name, you know. Malfoy is just my surname,” Draco said, leaning towards Harry; who backed up quickly and bumped into a soft object, which hit him at the back of the knees, causing him to stumble and fall backwards onto it.  
  
“I know it’s your name, but why should I change the way I’ve always called you?” Harry replied as he looked up at Draco, who was looming over him.  
  
He started to scoot backwards as Draco dropped to one knee next to him; his arms coming down to brace around Harry’s body, trapping him. That was when Harry became aware of were he was lying. It was on a large bed in the center of the room.  
  
The bed itself was impressive. Huge, it almost encompassed the entire floor space of the room. Massive posters stood at each corner, the dark aged wood delicately carved so that it appeared as if ancient dragons coiled themselves up around the thick posts.  
  
Harry's wide eyes then dropped to the luxurious bedding. The soft down of the mattress cradled his buttocks and thighs lovingly, in a way that promised rich and colorful dreams. The dark green of the satin comforter glimmered in the flickering of the small torches on the walls, the matching sheets sliding under his tense fingers like cool water.  
  
“Uhm, Malfoy, what are we doing in here?” he stuttered, looking up at Draco’s lust filled gaze as he crept closer over his body, straddling his hips.  
  
“Why Harry,” Draco purred, “what do two people normally do when they are alone in a bedroom?” He leaned down to nuzzle at the open collar of Harry’s shirt, inhaling the intoxicating masculine scent that lingered on his skin. “And didn’t I say to call me Draco.”  
  
“Ah, Mal...Draco, stop,” Harry hissed, fire shooting through his veins at the feeling of Draco’s lips against his skin. “We...uh...we...stop it...need to talk.”  
  
“Why ever for, this is so much more fun,” Draco whispered, trailing kisses up from Harry’s neck to the sensitive patch of skin behind his ear. He smirked when Harry yelped, his body arching up into his at the touch of his tongue.  
  
“Mmm, but...I need...to get...mmm,” Harry moaned, as his fists came up to grasp desperately at the material of Draco’s shirt, pushing him back to look up into glazed blue-gray eyes. “I thought...you...hated me.”  
  
“I never hated you, and there will be time for talk later,” Draco said softly. “Right now there is no one else here but us. Only Draco and Harry, not Malfoy and Potter. No messages, no spies, no war. I have wanted this for so long.”  
  
“But...” Harry’s voice trailed off as Draco lifted one hand to place a finger on his lips, stilling the words that threatened to spill forth.  
  
“No buts. Please Harry, I have waited so long for this. Just this night, please let me dream,” Draco whispered, his face full of the longing that gleamed in his eyes before leaning down once more to capture his mouth.  
  
Harry believed him suddenly and lifted his arms; winding them around his neck and letting himself slide into the sensations that Draco was coaxing from him.  
  
Draco’s mouth was patient and compelling; possessive one moment and teasing the next one. Harry’s head spun, dizzy from the onslaught and the intoxicating scent that hovered around Draco. Harry arched, his body begging for more and as if Draco could hear the words racing through his brain, his hands skimmed up his sides, leaving trails of fire racing through his veins.  
  
Draco’s mouth moved downward from those luscious lips to Harry’s throat, nuzzling gently at the collar of the net shirt that teased more than it covered. He slowly brought his hands up to slide under the green silk shirt, working it gently over Harry’s shoulders, who sat up slightly to facilitate its removal. Draco caught Harry’s shoulders in his hands and pulled him farther up, latching onto the skin beneath his ear, laving it with his tongue. He smiled at the pleasured cry he drew from Harry, as his hands slipped downward to tug at the hem of the net shirt, suddenly anxious to see and taste the lovely skin of Harry’s chest.  
  
He grasped the hem and tugged it roughly upwards, only breaking his hold on Harry’s neck when it was absolutely necessary, when a startled yelp sounded through the room.  
  
“Hey, careful with that!” cried Harry, as one of his hands came up and rubbed over his chest, centered around the area that had so fascinated Draco earlier that evening.  
  
“Hmm, what do we have here?” Draco purred, reaching out to remove Harry’s hand from his chest. “Why Mr. Potter, I didn’t know you were into such things.”  
  
“Well, normally I’m not, this was done as a dare,” Harry said, looking down and then back up into Draco’s fascinated gaze. “However, after it was done, I was quite pleased with it.” The sudden leap of desire in those smoky eyes had his heart slamming into his ribs.  
  
Draco looked down at the very Slytherin smirk that spread over Harry’s face and grinned one back himself as he bent forward and licked at the silver ring that pierced Harry’s nipple.  
  
Harry nearly cried out, just from that, the sensation of lips and tongue on his nipple, and when Draco tugged mischievously at the ring, he did cry out, his voice echoing through the room.  
  
“Do you want me to lick you like this all over?” Draco whispered between teasing flicks of his tongue.  
  
Harry made a soft, wailing keen, as his need washed over him, his knees spreading open to cradle Draco’s hips as his ground frantically against Draco. He ached; everything that Draco did brought a low throbbing ache deep in the pit of his stomach. The delving tongue detached from his nipple to stroke lower, swiping across his stomach to dip into his navel.  
  
Draco’s fingers slid down from his chest to slowly roam over the supple material of Harry’s leather pants, dragging the zipper down slowly, tormentingly, as he glided his fingertips over the soft skin exposed.  
  
Draco looked up from Harry’s stomach, his hands sliding up his chest to toy with his nipples. “You still haven’t answered me.”  
  
“Yes, please...anything,” he gasped his eyes closing, as Draco tugged lightly at the silver ring, sending waves of pleasure streaking through his body. His breath caught as Draco swept up, capturing his lips in a passionate, fiery kiss. For a moment he felt utterly helpless, overwhelmed by the desire that raced through his very being. Excitement prickled along his nerves, then suddenly Draco was gone, and he felt alone, bereft.  
  
He opened his eyes to see Draco standing by the edge of the bed, his hands moving to unbutton the few closed buttons of his silk shirt. Harry sat up, his hands joining Draco’s in removing the shirt, sliding along hot skin, his fingertips brushing along the edge of the black leather pants. Hearing a moan, he looked up and found Draco’s silver-blue eyes watching his every movement.  
  
_‘Turnabout is fair play,’_ Harry thought to himself, as he leaned forward and ran his tongue around Draco’s navel, dipping into the shallow well and smirking to himself at the hoarse cry he drew from him. His fingers moved to skim lightly down the hard bulge prominently displayed through the tight leather. He heard a sharp intake of breath from above and his fingers moved to unzip the leather, pushing the edges back. He leaned in and dropped a gentle kiss on the exposed crease of flesh between leg and pelvis. He tightened his fingers in the material, stopping Draco’s hips from bucking as he slid his hands around the loosened waistband to cup his buttocks, gently pushing the material down to bunch around Draco’s knees.  
  
Harry leaned back slightly to get his first glimpse of the throbbing hardness he had felt through the leather. It was slightly larger than averagenearly his length, however, it was quite a bit thicker. It jumped and jerked as his breath whispered over it, pearly drops shimmering in the pale light, steadily leaking over the head.  
  
He glanced back up one more time before leaning forward and taking the length into his mouth, licking and nibbling about the head before sliding it deep into his mouth.  
  
“Oh my god. . .don’t stop. . .ugh,” Draco cried out, as his head fell back and his hands came up to tangle in Harry’s messy black hair.  
  
Harry peeked up from under tangled bangs, as he slid back and dipped his tongue out, swirling it around the tip of Draco’s hardness. The taste intoxicated him, making him hungry for more. One hand slipped up to wrap around the base as the other skimmed up to tweak at one of Draco’s nipples. With a hoarse cry, Draco pulled back kicking off his pants before he reached out and slammed Harry roughly back onto the bed. He stripped Harry of his remaining clothing quickly before locking his mouth over Harry’s in a fiery kiss.  
  
Hands ghosted down Harry’s sides, tickling him softly as lips moved to follow hands. Harry gasped as Draco’s mouth closed about the end of his hardness, the wet warmth searing through his blood. A tip of a finger rubbed against his opening, causing a shiver to pass though Harry’s body.  
  
Harry spread his legs further as Draco’s fingers teased gently over his entrance. His eagerness causing his hips to buck against the tip, feeling it breach the muscle. The questing finger probed gently, stretching the tight muscle, and soon was joined by a second finger.  
  
Draco flexed his fingers and scissored them as he worked the small ring of muscle, his mouth moving gently up and down on Harry’s erection. Harry was tight and hot and so wet, that he wanted to slide himself deep within him that instant. However, he vowed that this experience would be one that Harry would remember for a long, long time. Feeling the muscle loosen enough, he slowly slipped a third finger into Harry and worked them in and out, moaning softly as the walls flexed around his digits.  
  
Draco leaned back, his fingers sliding from Harry’s passageway as he moved to position himself between his legs. He pressed the head of his hardness to breach the small opening. At first, he was denied entrance as Harry’s body automatically fought off his intrusion, but slowly it acquiesced and he slipped carefully into the heat that was Harry. The tight channel surrounded him, the heat threatening to break his already thready control. Once fully seated deep within him, he looked up into Harry’s glazed emerald eyes for any sign of pain. All he could read was within those depths was amazement and mild discomfort.  
  
“Are you all right?” Draco asked softly, not moving a muscle so that Harry could adjust to his intrusion.  
  
“Oh god, yes...please Draco, do something,” Harry panted, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head as Draco shifted and pressed against something that sent his mind soaring.  
  
Draco slowly withdrew, only to plunge forth as Harry’s hips raised to meet him, thrust for thrust. The heat of Harry’s passage rippling over his length, caressing it and squeezing it lovingly with each downward stroke. Draco was in heaven, this was what he had wanted to be for so long. He rocked his hips, building the rhythm and pressing against Harry’s sweet spot as often as he could, determined to make the dark-haired man beg for fulfillment.  
  
Harry’s hands fisted the sheets, his head tossing side to side as Draco plunged deeper and harder into him, his pleasure threatening to overwhelm him at any moment. He had never dreamed that it could be so wonderful with Draco. Never in any of his previous encounters had it felt this amazing. He pushed his hips upwards wanting to draw more of that tantalizing length inside.  
  
“Ugh, more Draco, please,” Harry grunted, his hands coming up to grip tightly on Draco’s shoulders.  
  
Draco increased his speed, as Harry’s demanded, more than happy to oblige as he reached down and pulled Harry's hips up, changing the angle so that he could plunge deeper into him. He began to pound into Harry wildly; holding onto his hips so hard that he knew that he was leaving bruises behind.  
  
Harry bucked and moaned as Draco continually pounded against his sweet spot, sending brilliant bursts of stars shooting though his mind, his blood on fire. His hardness twitched, caught between their stomach, the friction adding to his meltdown.  
  
Draco, on the verge of completion, reached between their straining bodies to wrap his hand around Harry’s hardness, pumping the shaft in sequence with his deep thrusts. Harry began to cry out, his name falling from his lips in a repeated succession, nearly to the point of babbling. Knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer, Draco leaned forward his lips brushing against Harry’s ear as he whispered, “Come for me, Harry.”  
  
With a sharp cry, Harry arched up against him, screaming Draco’s name as his release shot out to coat their stomachs and Draco’s hand. Moments later, as Harry’s channel contacted sharply about his hardness, Draco shouted Harry’s name loudly as his orgasm pounded through him, from the very depths of his soul flashing in a dazzling flash of light behind his eyes.  
  
Unable to hold his weight any longer Draco sank forward to rest partially on top of Harry’s heaving chest, his deflating hardness slipping from with him causing Harry to moan in displeasure at the sudden loss.  
  
Harry rolled slightly, moving Draco off of his chest and wrapped his arms about the panting blonde. Draco reached groggily down and pulled the covers up from the bottom of the bed. Foreheads touching they both slowly drifted into an exhausted slumber.  
  
The soft words that Draco murmured as they drifted under seemed to Harry to be only a faded memory.  
  
~*~  
  
When Harry awoke the next morning, he found that he was alone in the large room. His hand stole out over the bed to find the spot that Draco had lain cold. As he drew his hand back, his fingers encountered a slip of paper.  
  
Sitting, he pulled himself up to lean back against the headboard as he stared at the folded paper. His hand quaking slightly, he unfolded the piece of paper watching as another smaller piece of paper fell from the folds of the message. Looking at the paper in his hand, he began to shake as he read the words printed there.

_My dearest Harry,_  
  
_I am sorry, love, that I had to leave before you awoke this morning. I was due back to the fold early this day and it wouldn’t do for me to be late. The information that you came for is in the other piece of paper contained within this note. I can only pray that it will help you to end this war soon._  
  
_I wanted to say one last thing to you, I had always dreamed of the time that we could be together like we were last night. In all the years that I fought with you at Hogwarts, I always hoped that we could be together. It was all an act then, at first dictated by my father and then later by the Order. Yes, they wanted me to keep up the appearance that I was your enemy. To make it easier for HIM to accept me. I don’t know what is going to happen in the future for us, but this one night will remain in my memory forever._  
  
_Please be careful, my love and maybe when this is all through, we can talk once again._  
  
_All my love and my heart,_  
  
_Draco_

Harry stared at the paper as the words began to blur and he realized that tears were slowly creeping down his face. He carefully folded the treasured pieced of paper and held it close to his chest as his sobs picked up in strength.  
  
It took time for his tears to slow and stop, and he looked despondently about the room, taking in the carvings of the dragons on the bedposts, the bright green upholstery on the furniture. Everything the screamed Slytherin and Draco. He stood quickly, pulling on his clothes and picking up both pieces of paper, slipping them into the hidden compartment in his boots before taking one last look around the room.  
  
Straightening his shoulders, he opened the door and marched resolutely down the hallway and out past the smirking man at the desk.  
  
“Have a good night, luv,” he called after him, his tone mocking.  
  
Harry spun on his heel and reached out, grabbing the man by the collar and hoisting him up out of the chair to dangle from his grasp.  
  
“Jones right, that’s your name?” Harry snarled, his emerald eyes flashing down at the smaller man.  
  
“Ahh...y...yes sir...th...th...that’s right,.” Jones stuttered, looking terrified.  
  
“Well Jones, if you thought Draco was bad...I’m much worse,” Harry growled his eyes boring into the man in his grasp.  
  
“Yes sir, won’t say another thing, sir,.” Jones squeaked as Harry dropped him back into his chair and whirled away.  
  
Jones watched as the tall dark-haired man prowled across the room and out the door, wiping a hand across a suddenly clammy forehead as he murmured, “They don’t pay me enough for this.”  
  
~*~  
  
“Dammit Harry, what’s wrong with you! You’ve been moping around the house all day like someone ran over your pet dog,” Ron said as he stood in the doorway of Harry’s bedroom and looked over at the tall man leaning against the windowsill. The room was dark, what little light entering it came from the open doorway that Ron was standing in and the moonlight from the window.  
  
“Nothing’s wrong Ron, just leave me alone,” Harry said, his voice hoarse.  
  
“Nothing, my ass. I’ve known you too long to be put off by that line of shit. But if you don’t want to tell me, fine. Just remember I am here if you want to talk about it,” Ron said, pushing off the door and turning back to the hallway. “Oh, by the way, everyone is downstairs for the meeting. They are just waiting on you.”  
  
The door clicked shut behind Ron and Harry sighed softly, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Turning he strode across the room to the boots he had worn last night and removed the two pieces of paper from the hidden compartment. Opening the one, he looked over the words once more, firmly implanting them within his mind before he folded it carefully and slid it into his front pocket.  
  
Walking across the room, he threw open the door and went out into the hallway and down the stairs. The murmurs of conversation could be heard from the main parlor, and as he stepped through the open archway all eyes were drew towards him. He looked out at the assembled group. Severus, Tonks, Moody, Ron and Hermione, Bill and Charlie, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the twins Fred and George, Kingsley, and several others that he vaguely knew were all sitting or standing in small groups around the designated leader of their Order. One of them was Albus Dumbledore, who was seated currently in Harry’s chair next to the fireplace.  
  
“Ah Harry, my dear boy, glad you could join us,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling brightly.  
  
“Are you finding yourself comfortable within MY home?” Harry growled, his eyes expressing his displeasure.  
  
“Why yes Harry, we are,” Dumbledore replied, his bright eyes fading just a bit, much to Harry’s satisfaction.  
  
“Harry, where are your manners?” chastised Hermione, one hand wrapped around a huge belly.  
  
“Now now, my dear, don’t worry about it. We are intruders in his home, aren’t we?” Dumbledore said softly, waving a hand in Hermione’s direction.  
  
Several of the others were staring at Harry, mouths agape at the hostility that seemed to radiate between the old and young wizard. They had heard that Harry and Dumbledore were not on the best of terms, but to actually see it was something else.  
  
Severus turned to Harry, his coal black eyes looking at him up and down, before saying, “So, did you get the information?”  
  
Harry turned to him, his eyes colder than ever. “Yes Severus, I did your job for you,” he snapped, holding out his hand with the small piece of paper in it. “However,” he said, snatching his hand back as Severus reached out for the paper, “I have a few questions that need to be answered before I turn this over to you.”  
  
Severus’s eyebrow lifted at the look in Potter’s eyes, and turned to look over his shoulder at Dumbledore.  
  
“No, don’t look at him!” Harry’s voice cracked like a whip across the room and Severus’s eyes turned back to him. A shiver sped down his spine at the hatred and anger in those emerald green depths. “Now, when was anyone going to tell me that Draco Malfoy was a spy for the Order.”  
  
Gasps could be heard around the room, as Harry stood toe-to-toe with the Head of Slytherin, green eyes locked with black.  
  
“That was my doing, Harry,” Dumbledore said from behind Severus, his hand coming up to rest on Severus’s shoulder, before pulling him back away from Harry and moving to take his place.  
  
“Once again manipulating lives as if they were pieces of a chess game. Well, I for one will no longer stand for it,” Harry snapped, “This information stays with me and I will determine who needs it.” He turned and stalked from the room, turning in the doorway once more, his eyes flashing, “The Order will need to find another residence for their meetings as you are no longer welcomed here Dumbledore.”  
  
Cries of his name followed him as he stormed down the hallway and out into the back yard, his anger welling up into his blood as he lashed out at the first thing that came to hand.  
  
His seething gaze fell upon a stone bench only a few feet away. With a feral snarl, Harry's right hand snapped toward the bench, a fiery bolt flying from his long fingers. The bench exploded; pieces of stone whirling through the air and fortunately, falling harmlessly back to the long grass with small thunks.  
  
Still not satisfied, his gaze fell on the other bench, just a few feet down the path from the last one. His hand raised again and the bench began to melt, the stone glowing with the heat of his fury coursing through it, as it began to turn liquid. Grass around it blackened and small fires dotted the area surrounding the destroyed bench.  
  
When his anger had run its course, he stood head down panting from the exertion. Feeling the crinkling of the paper in his hand, he turned it over and looked down at it. Reading it slowly, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up from within him as he fell to his knees and looked up into the starry night sky.  
  
In his hand, written in Draco’s now familiar handwriting, was the answer to the questions that he had been searching for just only two days ago. The answer that would turn the tide of this war and end it within a matter of months.  
  
‘Thanks Draco,” he murmured softly, looking up into the twinkling heavens above, “You just may be able to keep that promise you made me.”  
  
A softly whispered voice echoed through the breeze, carrying a faded memory of a softly whispered back to him, _‘I’ll love you forever Harry, promise.’_  
  
~~*~~

Fin


End file.
